"You're awfully quiet," Fu Heng remarked, nudging Long Huang with a playful jab of his elbow. "Still brooding over that duel with Liu Jian?"
Long Huang shot back a smirk, his mind racing with the day's unfolding drama. "Hardly. I'm more intrigued by why Zhao Gun was really at the Red Fairy Pavilion."
Fu Heng's grin morphed into a sly expression. "Oh? You think there's more to it than a pretty dancer leading him astray?"
Before Long Huang could respond, a sudden commotion erupted nearby. A cluster of disciples from the Azure Lotus Sect, clad in vibrant blue robes, swarmed a familiar figure—Chi Wei. His previous cocky smirk faded as his eyes locked onto Long Huang.
"Well, well, if it isn't our 'prodigy,'" Chi Wei sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "Grass snake are you still pretending to fit in with real cultivators?"
Long Huang sighed, feigning boredom. "Chi Wei, if you're going to insult me, at least have the creativity to come up with something original. 'Prodigy' or 'Grass snake' is getting stale."
The disciples surrounding Chi Wei shifted, agitated, but one a lanky young man with a weasel-like face—stepped forward, puffing out his chest. "Big Brother Chi, let's teach this trash a lesson before the competition!"
Fu Heng crossed his arms, his amusement bubbling over. "Oh? You're volunteering to lose twice?"
Chi Wei's expression darkened, his temper flaring, but before he could retort, a sharp voice cut through the tension like a blade.
"Enough!"
A man clad in dark robes emerged, his mere presence commanding silence. Sharp features and cold, penetrating eyes sent a ripple of unease through the gathered onlookers. Long Huang's heart raced as recognition struck—Zhao Feng, the head guard of the Zhao family and uncle to Zhao Gun.
"Zhao Feng?" Long Huang muttered, a sense of foreboding washing over him.
Ignoring the murmurs of the crowd, Zhao Feng's gaze locked onto Long Huang, intense and unyielding as a blade's edge. "So, you're the one who dared to humiliate my nephew."
Fu Heng tensed beside Long Huang, but Long Huang held his ground, unflinching. "If you're talking about Liu Jian, he did that on his own."
"Who is that idiot? Don't you see I'm a Zhao family member through and through?" Zhao Feng barked, his face contorted with frustration.
Long Huang shared a knowing glance with Fu Heng; the stakes were rising.
Zhao Feng continued, his disdain barely contained. "Zhao Gun was at the pavilion because his younger brother, Zhao Ling, got entangled with one of the dancers. He went there to extricate the fool before their father found out." A smirk twisted his lips. "But I imagine you suspected that all along, didn't you?"
Long Huang remained silent, feeling the tension thicken around them like a tightening noose.
With a deliberate step forward, Zhao Feng lowered his voice into a fierce whisper, cutting through the crowd noise meant only for Long Huang. "The Martial Competition won't unfold as easily as you anticipate. Factions are shifting, and enemies are watching your every move." He paused, a hint of something—was it respect?—flitting across his steely gaze. "That 'dancer' with Zhao Ling? She's a spy working for the Savage Marquis of the Northern Jain Kingdom."
A jolt of ice shot through Long Huang at the very mention of the Savage Marquis, a ruthless enforcer known for brutal tactics, all too willing to use others as pawns in his political games.
Before Long Huang could digest this shocking revelation, Zhao Feng launched an unexpected attack, his palm slicing through the air aimed directly at Long Huang's throat.
Teng!
Long Huang barely dodged, adrenaline surging as he felt a searing graze across his cheek. A collective gasp rose from the crowd, shock rippling through them, but Zhao Feng didn't pursue his held momentum. Instead, he stepped back, a malicious grin etching across his face.
"Impressive reflexes," he remarked, voice dripping with condescension. "But mark my words—mere reflexes won't safeguard you from what's coming."
With that ominous warning, he melded back into the crowd, leaving only shock and anticipation swirling in the aftermath.
Seizing on the charged atmosphere, Chi Wei spat venom, attempting to reclaim his footing. "See? Even the Zhao family knows you're—"
"Shut up, Chi Wei!" Long Huang snapped, his voice echoing with newfound resolve. "This situation is far larger than your petty grievances."
"Fuck how did you even get here?" he added, then he remembered Zhao Xue was a member of the Zhao family.
Chi Wei flinched, the truth of Long Huang's words cutting deeper than any insult ever could.
Fu Heng whistled, breaking the tense silence. "Well, that escalated quickly."
Long Huang exhaled sharply, his mind racing with the implications of what had just transpired. The Savage Marquis had marked him as a target. The fourth prince was beginning to play his game, and Zhao Gun's family was enmeshed in a web far more complex than he had anticipated.
"Fu Heng," Long Huang said, his expression growing serious. "We need to find Zhao Gun. Now."
---
Elsewhere…
The winds of Blossom City howled like a dying beast, tearing through the jagged mountain passes of the Archdevil mountain range. People of Blossom City never really talked or knew what was outside of the city beyond the Archdevil mountain. Still, they knew that they lived on the borderline that separated the Northern Jain Kingdom from the Southern Xuan Empire. The city thrived on secrets, a gilded prison of cherry blossoms hiding darker truths entwined in the heart of Chi Qide—the disgraced heir of the Azure Lotus Sect, now the current Sect Leader.
Years earlier, Chi Qide had watched his father, the former Sect Leader, commend Huang Peng, the Fifth Elder, as though he were his favored son.
"Huang Peng sees beyond the blade," the old man had extolled, his voice heavy with longing. " But how can my own blood only think of your own glory?" he said as he sighed with a look of disappointment in his eyes.
But Chi Qide's heart burned with jealousy, simmering beneath layers of humiliation, as he had been cast aside for another. Time had twisted the roots of his bitterness into a monstrous form, shaping his aspirations. Now, shadows whispered of regaining power, and Chi Qide was prepared to unleash hell in pursuit of his vision.
Gritting his teeth, he vowed to turn past grievances into a reckoning. He would reclaim his rightful throne, no matter the cost. And in this dangerous game, blood would spill—retribution for every slight, every insult, until he stood, once again, as the rightful heir.
So when the Sect Leader led a delegation into the treacherous lands of the Northern Jain Kingdom, Chi Qide made his move. He hired the Black Viper Mercenaries, men without loyalty or honor, and orchestrated an ambush beneath the blood-red moon.
Huang Peng was the first to react. His sword, Frostvein, cleared its sheath in a silver arc, deflecting three bolts aimed at the Sect Leader's throat. "AMBUSH!" he roared.
Too late.
A spear took the Sect Leader through the gut, lifting him off his feet. Chi Qide watched, motionless, as his father's blood painted the stones. The old man's lips moved—a name, a curse—before a Viper's dagger silenced him forever.
Huang Peng fought like a man possessed. His blade became a whirlwind of steel, shearing through mercenaries in sprays of crimson. But for every one he cut down, three more surged forward. A dagger found his ribs. A mace shattered his shoulder. Still, he fought, his qi flaring like a dying star—
Until a boot crushed him into the dirt.
Through bloodied eyes, Huang Peng saw him. Chi Qide, standing amidst the carnage, his face as placid as a frozen lake.
"Why?" Huang Peng choked.
Chi Qide knelt, pressing a finger to the dying elder's forehead. "The Sect was rotting under his hand. I am simply... pruning the disease." His nail dug in, carving a rune of suppression into Huang Peng's skin. "But you? You'll live. A survivor needs witnesses to sell his tragedy."
Returning to the present day....
The moon hung like a dagger over the Azure Lotus Sect. Chi Qide moved through the shadows, Fang of the Serpent glinting in his grip. Years of careful planning were unraveling—Huang Peng's defiance, Long Huang's resurgence, the whispers of the Border Suppression Marquis' heir.
No more loose ends.
He struck without sound. His blade pierced Huang Peng's bedroom window—
CLANG!
A dagger intercepted, sparks lighting the darkness. Huang Peng stood bare-chested, his torso crisscrossed with scars from that long-ago night. "I always knew you'd come," he breathed.
Chi Qide's smile was a slit throat. "Then you know how this ends."
Their battle tore the manor apart. Chi Qide fought with the crushing weight of the Late Qi Condensation Realm, each strike cracking the earth. But Huang Peng was wind given form—dodging, weaving, his dagger tracing silver lines across Chi Qide's arms.
"You're slower," Huang Peng taunted, flipping over a decapitating strike. "Age? Or guilt?"
Chi Qide's answer was a palm strike that shattered the wall behind them. "Justice."
Huang Peng spat blood. "You wouldn't know justice if it carved out your heart."
A feint. A twist. Suddenly, Huang Peng was gone—vanishing into the night like smoke.
Chi Qide pursued, his qi scorching footprints into the cobblestones. The trail led to a secluded manor on the city's edge, its garden overrun with ghost-white plum blossoms. He kicked open the doors—
And the world stopped. A woman stood in the center of the room, her presence like a blade pressed against his throat.
Su Yan, Huang Peng's wife. Her aura radiated power so immense that the very air trembled, her unbound hair floating as if underwater. The air around her warped, reality itself buckling under her Profound Xiantian Realm pressure.
Chi Qide's sword arm trembled. Impossible. She was supposed to be—
"You dare?" Su Yan's voice was the calm before annihilation.
Chi Qide lunged, Fang of the Serpent screaming toward her throat—
She moved.
Not with speed. With inevitability, her palm connected with his chest.
BOOM!
The shockwave shattered every window in the district. Chi Qide flew backward through three walls, his ribs collapsing like rotten timber. He hit the ground hard, his vision swimming.
Footsteps. Slow. Deliberate.
Su Yan loomed over him, her eyes twin voids. "My husband stayed his hand out of mercy." She placed a bare foot on his wrist. Crunch. "I have none."
Her fingers touched his forehead.
AGONY.
Chi Qide's scream wasn't human as Su Yan's qi invaded his meridians, burning them from the inside out. Veins blackened. Muscles withered. His cultivation—decades of painstaking progress—unraveled like a rotten tapestry.
"STOP YAN'ER!" Huang Peng's voice cut through the haze.
Su Yan withdrew, leaving Chi Qide a twitching wreck. "Run," she whispered. "Leave. And if you ever raise a hand against my family again, I will not stop at crippling you."
"And pray we never meet again."
Chi Wei found his father at sunrise, crawling through the Sect's training grounds like a gutted animal.
"FATHER!" He caught the broken man as he collapsed. "Who did this?!"
Chi Qide's lips peeled back in a rictus grin. "The past... has claws..." Blood bubbled from his mouth. "Prepare... for war..."
Across the city, Huang Peng watched the horizon darken with storm clouds.
Su Yan tightened her grip on his hand. "He'll come for Long Huang next."
Huang Peng nodded, flexing the scarred rune on his forehead—the one Chi Qide had carved all those years ago. "Let him try."